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There's only one way in for foreigners and this is it, the checkpoint at the Erez crossing into the Gaza strip. I get my stamp on the separate piece of paper inside my passport which the Israelis obligingly give you when you enter their bit of the unholy land and wheel the bicycle over the smashed pavements, through the labyrinth of crash barriers and shark-like gates with iron teeth towards the Palestinian soldiers. The road disappears underneath a pile of rubble and bulldozers and we're all diverted into a small back street to sit in a hooting line of smelly traffic inching its way through the concrete chaos of Gaza City.

As I cycle closer to Gaza City itself, I can feel myself breathing in, that feeling of being squeezed reinforced as I pedal up a hill and see the city lying sprawled out as far as the bird can fly.

The French boys, like the American, are soon taken under the wing of new-found Palestinian friends.

Off go the wide-eyed foreigners to be fed with delicious home cooking - lucky them - and taken to play billiards in the ubiquitous sports clubs (males only).

Glaucoma is really a group of diseases that have one factor in common: progressive optic nerve damage cause by increased pressure within the eyeball.

This Health Chat will open on Monday, July 9, 2012 to allow you to submit questions.

Give Me Immortality or Give Me Death is a comedy album by The Firesign Theatre that was released in 1998 on Rhino Records.

The album takes the form of a fictional radio broadcast on the night of December 31, 1999.

The French boys show me the plastic bullets they've been given by their new friends as holiday souvenirs and tell me, horror-struck, about the bullet hole scars they were shown by nearly everyone at the club.

I make do with Mohammed who gleefully describes what fun it was to throw stones at the Israelis as they stumbled in panic through the narrow alleyways of the refugee camps trying to control thousands of hostile Palestinians during the intifada.

Formalities over, I cycle down the road towards Gaza City, through the orange groves and the scattered sprawls of half-made concrete buildings, trying not to crash into the crazy taxis, clapped out old cars and little donkeys, horses, carts and lorries all jostling for space on that narrow ribbon of tarmac which heads south for 30 miles through the Gaza strip and out at the other end into Egypt.

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